


Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Frat Boy Shiro (Voltron), Getting Together, Hoodies, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Porn with Feelings, Topping from the Bottom, frat AU, keith is thirsty, pumpkin spice shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 08:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Keith felt the smile spread across his face. There were a lot of things Keith hated. Professors who graded on curve. Liquor store clerks who thought he didn’t want his three pennies worth of change back. Everything about Autumn, especially the cold and the throngs of hipsters treating the unfavorable weather as an aesthetic. He didn't hate Shiro though.Except, maybe just a little bit since he was definitely the one to blame for the unexplainable sudden craving Keith had for a pumpkin spice latte.





	Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [restlessandordinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessandordinary/gifts), [whiskyandwildflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskyandwildflowers/gifts).



> Here is the obligatory college/frat au I never thought I'd write. But I would die for frat boy shiro and grumpy thirsty keith so here we are.
> 
> So much love to TDcats for the amazing beta. <3
> 
> This fic [now has art](http://tragedy-machine.tumblr.com/post/180049029712/a-surprise-gift-commission-shiro-dropped-his)!!!! <3

Keith tugged his leather jacket around his shoulders tighter, frowning at the gust of wind that blew his hair into his face. Fuck he hated Autumn. Everyone was always going on and on about how exciting it was, but as far as Keith was concerned it was just an excuse for every student in his vicinity to be trying to take the perfect Instagram shot of their Ugg boots in a pile of leaves of an artsy shot of their fucking pumpkin spice latte. Worse than that, though, the _cold._ Not as cold as it would be come Winter, but cold enough that it made Keith cranky. He hated being cold.

Rucking up his heavy as fuck backpack that was digging into his shoulders, he pushed open the door to the library, sighing in relief when a wave of warm air assaulted him. The only good thing about going to the library was the fact that the librarian—an eccentric older gentleman named Coran who often talked your ear off when you went to the information desk—was never frugal with the air conditioner in summer or the heater in colder months. Not like his penny pinching pain of an ass roomate Pidge, who would throw a hoodie and a blanket at Keith and tell him his excessive use of the heater was going to contribute to global warming. Technically Pidge was his best friend, but since she’d turned traitor and installed an eco-friendly thermostat with a passcode while he was in lecture last Tuesday, she was currently still receiving the silent treatment. Which is exactly why Keith was suffering in the the college library at half past six on a Tuesday evening instead of studying in his own room like he preferred where no one would judge him for eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s to make it through the horror that was Professor Slav’s midterm review without crying.

It took Keith nearly twenty minutes of circling the library in search of an empty table before he gave up and hunkered down into the dusty corner wedged between between Classic Literature and Early Childhood Education. Keith still wasn’t sure why they were next to each other, but he’d learned a long time ago not to question Coran about why the library didn’t follow standard catloguing practices.

Keith spent the next half an hour wishing he could spork his eyes out as he read over the ridiculously complex rules Slav planned to use to grade their Aerodynamics midterm. It wasn’t that Keith found the material difficult, it was that Slav made everything sound as complicated and difficult as possible, and he graded on a curve. As far as Keith was concerned, there was a special place in hell for professors who graded on a curve. It wasn’t his problem if someone did better or worse than him. Keith wanted to be graded on his own merit and that alone. He didn’t want to be raised up by someone else's stupidity or dragged down because Slav wanted some ridiculous curved distribution of grades. 

Another twenty minutes later Keith was developing a serious headache, regretting his decision to skip dinner in favor of the promise of the well-heated library. Even if it meant he had to walk half a mile in the frigid October evening and endure the throngs of college students who apparently had nothing better to do than wander around campus seemingly living their life based on some sort of photo seeking aesthetic rather than simply existing in the moment.

Grabbing his backpack he closed his eyes and prayed he’d left a snack inside the front pocket. As he unzipped it he grimaced, wondering when the fuck he’d stuffed a broken red plastic cup in there. He pulled it out and dropped it to the floor, glad no one was there to see the hand sanitizer or condoms that felt out when he did it. The next thing he pulled out was a half-eaten pack of barbeque flavored peanuts and a piece of chewing gum that was missing its wrapper. Fuck, he really needed to clean this thing out more than once every four months at the end of the semester.

“Please, please, please,” he quietly chanted to himself, shoving his hand into the dark crevice of his backpack one last time and wondering if it was indicative of his extremely unhealthy stress level that he wanted to cry when his fingers wrapped around something that was distinctly candy bar shaped. Pulling it out he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. _Snickers_. Maybe it was a good thing he never cleaned it out after all, because he had no recollection of having ever put this in there. Careful not to make too much noise with the wrapper since the one rule Coran actually enforced was the _no eating in my library books are sacred vessels of knowledge young man!_ rule he peeled it off and shoved the wrapped inside the broken solo cup and promised himself he’d remember to throw it away when he was done. 

Keith had just taken the first bite of the candy bar, pleased that it being smashed, melted,and rehardened had not at all altered the taste when heard the unmistakable shuffle of feet and loud voices.

“Shhh,” someone hissed. “You’re so loud sometimes.” Keith frowned as he tried to place the voice. It was almost familiar. 

“Calm down, Matt. No one heard me. There’s no one in this part of the library anyway.”

Keith’s stomach flipped at that very familiar deep timbre. _Shiro_. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Shiro was a senior, and not just any senior but a senior who had made the the Dean’s List four years running and was likely to graduate Magna Cum Laude with his double degree in Aerospace Dynamics and Applied Physical Sciences. On top of being smart and driven, he was also president of his fraternity and regularly volunteered at the animal shelter across the street. As if that weren’t enough Shiro was built like a fucking Greek God, his muscles rippled and his jaw sharp enough to cut steel. Not even the scars on his face or his prosthetic arm dampened it and Keith was convinced those things only made him more attractive. Keith was privately of the opinion that anything would be attractive on Shiro, which seemed universally unfair, but then Keith was no stranger to the harsh reality that life was never fair.

Shiro had been the subject of Keith’s every wank fantasy for nearly a year, and Keith had been positive it would never be more than that. At least until they’d bumped into each other at two am at the twenty-four hour 7-Eleven. Keith, in a fit of stress-induced panic, was buying three cans of Red Bull and wondering how many consecutive hours he could stay awake to write all the essays he’d been putting off before he passed out from sleep deprivation. 

It turned out Shiro was equally as stressed, though his drug of choice had not been multiple cans of sugar-laden caffeine that tasted like you’d let a twenty-five cent cherry sucker melt in a can of store brand soda. No, instead Shiro’s arms had been laden with enough candy to induce a diabetic coma. Keith had said as much to him while they waited in line behind the drunk old man who smelled of Pine-Sol and couldn’t seem to decide which scratchers he wanted to buy. Shiro had blushed, and to Keith's complete surprise offered to share. Of course Keith hadn’t actually thought he was serious. In Keith’s not-so-limited experience people tended to say a lot of crazy things to strangers in line at convenience stores. Except when he walked out of the 7-Eleven five minutes later with his purchases swinging in a black plastic bag from his left hand, Shiro had been standing there leaning against his fully restored 1962 Shelby Cobra and walked to the passenger side and opened the door for Keith like a fucking gentleman or something. Granted the effect was slightly diminished by his ridiculous slide-on Adidas sandals, loose grey sweatpants, and backward baseball cap. But his boyish grin had somehow made him look adorable rather than like a grade A frat douche. In fact the image of Shiro in his ridiculous outfit leaning against a sports car that looked like cost more than Keith’s entire college tuition was like some sort of tortuous wet dream. Keith wondered if Shiro had ever fucked anyone in that car.

“You coming?” Shiro asked with an easy smile.

Keith had gaped at Shiro, glancing around the dark parking lot and wondered if he’d already been awake so long that he was starting to hallucinate. 

“You don’t even know me,” he’d blurted out stupidly.

Shiro had laughed as he leaned against his sports car, crossing his arms over his broad chest which managed to make his biceps look unnaturally large under the glow of the cheap fluorescent lighting. Who the fuck wore tank tops in October anyway? This was New York, not California. Shiro didn’t seem at all bothered by the frigid temperatures though, just continued grinning at Keith as if he were funny or something. Keith was used to being the reason people frowned, not the reason they smiled.

“Keith Kogane, second in Slav’s freshman Applied Aerodynamics and Space Travel seminar. You sit in the sixth row against the far wall, usually doodle instead of take notes, and still somehow manage to ace almost every exam.”

Keith had balked, his hands sweating as he held on tightly to his purchase. “Er—”

“I sit in on Slav’s lectures sometimes. I’m not officially his T.A. but I’m hoping he’ll take me on for an apprenticeship so.” Shiro had trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. Keith knew this, everyone in Slav’s classes knew this. Hell, Keith was convinced at least a third of the people in that damn class had only signed up because they’d hoped to end up in one of the lectures Shiro helped with. Half of Keith’s college-ruled notebooks were full of doodles of Shrio and his stupidly adorable floofy hair that was always sticking out of his backwards baseball cap. Not that Shiro knew that. At least he hoped not. But Keith knowing who Shiro was and Shiro noticing Keith—in a lecture hall of nearly two hundred freshman—that was something else entirely. 

That was, well Keith didn’t know what the fuck that was, but fuck was it _something._ Something that made him feel bold and reckless and possibly more excited than was strictly reasonable.

The next day Keith would blame the fact that he climbed into Shiro’s car that night instead of walking back to his apartment on stress and sleep deprivation. He didn’t know what to blame the fact that Shiro had asked him to hang out and actually meant it on. They’d spent the night holed up on the floor of Shiro’s room in his frat house watching reruns of the Simpsons, drinking Red Bull and eating so many Twizzlers Keith almost threw up. Shiro had sat so close, his warm thigh pressed up against Keith’s and his hands repeatedly lingering against Keith’s when they reached for another piece of licorice at the same time. It’d been the best night in a very long time, which honestly was a bit pathetic when he thought about it. Which was exactly why he did his best _not_ to think to hard about it. Not when he woke up bright and early the next morning with a stiff neck and a lap full of Shiro who at some point had apparently slumped sideways and fallen asleep atop Keith’s legs. Keith had scrubbed at his eyes, blinking at the flashing red numbers on the alarm clock on Shiro’s nightstand that read 9:58 and internally cursed. Fuck, there went his nine am lecture. 

Shiro had grunted, rolling onto his side and throwing his ridiculously long arm over Keith’s leg. The tips of his fingers brushed against Keith’s ankle bone. Keith had felt the sudden compulsion to reach out and stroke the white hairs in Shiro’s eyes off his face, to touch his nose and see if the scar was rougher than the skin on his lips, and to run his fingertips across the skin at Shiro’s shoulder. Fuck, Keith even wanted to touch the thick dark hair sticking out beneath his armpit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This crush was getting out of hand if Shiro’s armpit hair was becoming a point of arousal.

Realizing that Shiro was clearly going to wake up and wonder what the fuck had possessed him to invite a scholarship freshman back to his room to share his candy, Keith slipped out from beneath Shiro, carefully wedging a pillow in his place and tiptoeing from the room.

Of course when he’d run into Shiro that evening at the Starbucks on campus, instead of pretending he didn’t see him or walking the other way, he'd simply smiled and waved at several people before moving to stand beside Keith in line and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone but i’m ordering a pumpkin spice latte.” Keith had just gaped at Shiro, taking in his outfit, which was an exact repeat of the day before except in a different color, and wondering if he’d fallen asleep in his trig class again and was dreaming.

“Did you have to leave early for class?” Shiro had asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on his feet. Something about the action made him look younger, softer somehow, and less like the campus heartthrob who looked like he should be a quarterback and more just, well—just _Shiro_.

“Yeah, yeah I did. Sorry,” Keith had whispered, gut twisting despite the fact that it wasn't entirely a lie. He’d looked around and noticed several students watching them with open curiosity. He didn’t blame them. If the positions had been reversed he’d be staring too, albeit less blatantly. To Keith’s knowledge, despite Shiro being the subject of every student’s wet dream, he’d never had a boyfriend or girlfriend. 

“I’ll let you make it up to me,” Shiro had said good naturedly, winking at Keith as if they shared a secret. Fifteen minutes later, when they finally got to the front of the line,Shiro really did order a pumpkin spice latte—whole milk, extra hot, double syrup he’d whispered, as if someone would chastise him if they heard—and then insisted on paying for Keith’s rather simple venti black coffee. Even more surprising was when they walked outside: instead of going his own way, Shiro had walked beside Keith the twenty minutes it took to get to his ceramics class, filling the silence with funny stories about his frat brothers or ruminations on his senior seminar. Somehow it wasn’t until Keith was throwing a hunk of wet clay at the potter's wheel that it hit him that Shiro had asked him on a date, and he’d said yes. 

The next few weeks passed by in a blur as Shiro continued to be a gentleman, opening car doors and paying for dinners. By the third date Keith was ready to hit him over the head with his backpack if he didnt let Keith pay,to which Shiro had simply grinned that impish grin and said “Why,I’d love to go out with you again, Kogane.” 

Which is exactly how Keith had somehow ended up asking Shiro on a date without realizing it, which is how they ended up at the movies on a Friday night, sitting in the back row while Keith did his best to focus on the movie and not the way Shiro’s thick thighs looked in his hideous basketball shorts, spread wide with his white tank top clinging to his chest. Keith didn’t have anyone to blame for what came next, which was his hand sliding down Shiro’s chest to slip into his shorts, hand hidden discreetly beneath the overside popcorn Shiro had insisted they buy to share, wrapping his fingers around Shiro’s cock and pulling him off while Shiro shoved his metal fist in his mouth and looked like he was doing his best not to scream.

They had miraculously not been kicked out, possibly because Keith waited until the car was blowing up on the IMAX screen to run his thumb over the slit of Shiro’s cock so the sound of him groaning in pleasure was muffled by the even louder explosions. Unfortunately, this had Shiro choking on fist as he came, bucking his hips up so hard he’d lost his hold of the jumbo popcorn bucket and made it rain popcorn atop the heads of the people seated in front of them.

Back at the library the sound of a book falling started Keith back into awareness. 

“For fuck’s sake, why don’t you do something about it if he’s got you so hot and bothered,” the first voice said. 

He shoved the second half of his Snickers into his mouth, chewing rapidly as he rose to a crouching position to peer through the stacks of books. Sure enough Shiro was standing there with his back to Keith wearing another pair of basketball shorts and a tank top that was so thin Keith wasn’t even sure it counted as clothing, along with a bright purple baseball cap once again worn backwards. Keith would find it comical that Shiro seemed to wear the same two outfits on a continuous rotation, albeit in different colors, if he didn’t find it so fucking hot. No one had the right to look so attractive in athletic wear, especially someone who was so clearly not on his way either to or from the gym. 

“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it.” Shiro sounded unsure, and Keith shoved his face so far into the stacks of books he was going to have a red mark on his forehead from where the metal shelf was digging into his skin but he didn’t care. He wanted to know what Shiro and Matt were talking about. 

“I think you’re making this far too complicated, Shiro.”

“But he’s so hot. Like you don’t even understand. Fuck, like off the charts hot. I’ve never been so attracted to someone in all my life. I went through an entire tube of lube this week, Matt! My wrist is sore.”

“First of all, that’s way too much information, and not because you’re crushing on a guy but because you are like my brother and hearing about your sexual escapades is just weird. Second of all, I still think you just need to walk up to him and just be like ‘My dude, I want to fuck you, or I want you to fuck me me’ whichever floats your boat. I will not allow your oversized thighs and domineering physical stature to sway my perception of which sexual position you prefer.”

Shiro laughed, hitting Matt playfully on the shoulder. “I’d be happy with either.”

Matt groaned. “I don’t want to have mental images of you being fucked or fucking anyone. Please.”

Keith’s stomach clenched painfully as he swallowed the Snickers and he wished suddenly that he’d not eaten it. Shiro’s words cut like a knife, and he felt sick to his stomach. He’d assumed Shiro would eventually find someone more attractive and more deserving of his attentions, but he’d not thought it would happen so fast. They’d only been together a few weeks, and while they hadn’t actually had any kind of official relationship discussion yet,Keith had stupidly let himself think that Shiro’s attentions meant he might possibly like Keith as much as Keith liked him. 

Fuck, how could he have been so stupid?

“I mean it’s not just his looks, though. He’s so smart. Like sometimes when I look at him across the room I don’t know if I want him naked in my bed or sitting across from me at Starbucks and just talking to me.”

There was a wistfulness to Shiro’s voice that Keith had heard once before, the day Shiro had first asked him on a date outside his pottery class. Maybe that was just what Shiro was like, falling into a flurry of infatuation every few weeks. Keith couldn’t even blame the fucker Shiro was talking about, because beyond his good looks and stupid clothing, Shiro was wickedly smart. He deserved someone who was his equal. 

Keith sighed, sitting back on his heels and rubbing his forehead. He could feel the deep indent the shelf had left, and he brushed his hair over it hoping no one would notice. 

Keith had been a fool. A fool to say yes to a date. A fool to start falling for Shiro and a fool for eavesdropping. His pop had always told him if someone couldn’t say something to your face you probably didn’t want to know it anyway, and fuck, wasn’t that the truth. It was only a matter of time before Shiro stopped returning his texts or gave him the age old _‘It’s not you it’s me’_ speech.

Except Keith wasn’t that naive. He knew exactly when he was no longer wanted—when he’d become too much and eventually overwhelmed the people who’d once claimed to want him. He’d been rejected enough times in his brief nineteen years to know all the signs. Shiro had seemed too good to be true, more than Keith had ever hoped for really, and so he knew he should’ve seen this coming. Shiro was like a shooting star, beautiful and blazing but never meant to stay in Keith’s orbit. 

So Keith did what any self respecting and emotionally mature adult would do and avoided Shiro. He stopped going to Starbucks on his way to his first lectures, and he ignored the multitude of texts Shiro sent that started with pictures of kittens at the shelter on Tuesday and by Friday had become short and somber.

_Are you ok?_

_Is something wrong?_

_Keith?_

_Matt said that Pidge said you’re alright. Did I do something?_

By Friday afternoon Keith had missed half his classes and was feeling like a complete asshole. The only reason he dragged himself out of his room and across campus was because there was an exam in his Astronomy class he couldn’t afford to miss if he hoped to keep his grades up and retain his scholarship. Of course, sitting through the exam proved pointless since everywhere he looked he was reminded of Shiro. Positive he might have actually flunked, he slammed his test face down on the professor's desk before striding from the classroom. 

He was so lost in his own anger it took him a few minutes to realize someone was yelling his name. When he spun around, it was Shiro sprinting across the quad.

“Keith,” he whispered breathlessly once he was standing in front of him. For once he wasn’t wearing a baseball hat, but his hair looked limp and flat peeking out from beneath the hood of his Paladins Prep sweatshirt. His sweatpants were wrinkled, and he had on thick white socks beneath his favorite slip-on sandals. He looked like a disaster on legs who hadn’t slept in a week, and Keith’s chest ached with the dawning realization that perhaps he hadn’t, and that worse still it was possibly Keith’s fault. 

“Hey, Shiro.”

Now that Shiro was standing in front of him, it looked like he was lost for words, shoving his hands into the front pocket.

“It’s been a busy week,” Keith lied.

“Yeah?”

Keith paused, taking in the discomfort on Shiro’s face, and his stomach flipped. Whatever was going on, no matter how hurt he was, Shiro deserved better than this. Shiro deserved the truth. 

“No. No, not really. I’ve been hiding in room ignoring my phone and skipping classes.”

Unmistakable worry broke out on Shiro’s face as he stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

Keith shook his head. “I heard you. In the library I mean.”

“You heard me?” Shiro repeated slowly, nose wrinkled up in confusion. 

“Yes,” Keith snapped, tense and exhausted. “I heard you talking to Matt. I didn’t mean to do it. I couldn’t find an empty place to study, so I was in the stacks revising for Slavs midterm, and then I heard you two talking.”

Shiro’s face balked in surprise, a red blush spreading across the bridge of his nose. “What exactly did you hear?”

Keith kicked at the grass with his boot, frowning at the mud that caked on the toe. “I heard enough. I know you like someone else and it’s fine we didn’t make any promises to-“

“Wait, what do you mean I like someone else?”

Keith sighed. “You don’t need to pretend. Okay, I get it. I’m not angry at you. I mean it stung a little.I know we hadn’t actually said we were exclusive, but I thought we were having fun, and I guess I thought if you’d met someone you’d at least tell me first and not your friend, but it’s fine.”

“Keith, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Keith didn’t understand why Shiro looked so confused. Either he was a really good actor, or he was painfully obtuse. 

“I heard you telling Matt about some new gorgeous guy you’ve got the hots for and can’t stop wanking over.”

Shiro’s face broke out in a smile and Keith wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or punch him. What the fuck was he smiling for?

“Let me get this straight. You overheard me talking to Matt about someone I’m very attracted to physically and emotionally? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

Shiro took another two steps towards him. Up close Keith could could see every eyelash if he wanted to. Shiro was so close he could smell his cologne and feel his breath on his face. 

“Yes,” Keith ground out. “We don’t need to go over this in detail. I get it. okay. You found someone else, and I was just making it easier for both us by speeding up the inevitable.”

“Is that all you heard?”

“I heard enough before I realized I didn’t need to hear any more and left.”

Shiro pulled his hands out of his pockets, bringing them up to rest against Keith's wind-chilled cheeks. His palms were broad, fingers long and warm. Keith shivered at the feeling. This was by far the most confusing way he’d ever been dumped before. 

“Keith, I was talking about _you._ ”

All the air left Keith’s lungs as he stared at Shiro in surprise. In all his ruminations about how this might go—and boy, had there been a lot—this was one scenario that had not even been on his radar. 

“Me?” He croaked.

Shiro nodded, his thumbs caressing Keith’s cheeks. “That handsome guy that gives me butterflies in my stomach and makes me achingly hard with just one look is the same guy whose company and conversation I want as much as his cock. It’s _you._ ”

Even the second time around that sentence didn’t feel any less shocking. Keith tried to recall the last time anyone besides Pidge had willingly solicited his company. After his pop had passed away when he was five in a house fire Keith had been shuffled between distant relatives for a few months before they had gotten tired of a grieving angry kid who’d suddenly start wetting the bed and having nightmares of being consumed by flames. 

Deciding he was too much to handle, he was stuck in foster care with nothing but his stuffed lion named Red—because it was his favorite color—and a bent photo of his pop and him. The next thirteen years had been spent much the same, as foster parent after foster parent had gotten fed up, first with his complicated emotional needs and then with his defiance and anger. By the time he was eighteen he had nothing but his backpack and his brain, and he’d slept on park benches and in back alleys until Pidge had found him inside Starbucks nursing a black coffee in the hopes of not being kicked back outside into the snow and insisted he come stay with her. She was only sixteen but had graduated high school four years early and was already a sophomore at the local college. With a safe place to stay and some warm meals in his belly, Keith had gotten back onto his feet, and a year later he’d been accepted with a full scholarship to the same college Pidge attended.

Keith had honestly expected much from his college experience, to get an education and better himself since no one else was going to help him do it, but he’d never expected to find someone like Shiro. Shiro, who had a way for making Keith laugh and smile, who had a way with both his words and his silences that made Keith feel comfortable and safe. Shiro didn’t seem to mind his cynical remarks or biting humor but instead seemed to revel in it. But all the same, Keith had known it must surely be temporary. Even the foster parents who had liked him in the beginning had eventually gotten tired of him. Everyone did.

So the idea that Shiro might want Keith, really want him, that was inconceivable. That was simply too much for someone like him. 

“I don’t understand,” Keith said after nearly a minute of silence.

Shiro dropped his left hand, wrapping it around Keith’s waist and pulling him flush against his chest as his right hand moved around to cradle the back of Keith’s head, resting it against his shoulder. Keith tensed for a moment, then felt the tension seep away as Shiro pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Relaxing into the embrace, he turned his cheek to let it rest against the soft cotton of Shiro’s hoodie as they stood there blocking the sidewalk and hugging. 

They stayed like that for several long moments, the late afternoon breeze blowing leaves of gold and red across Keith’s line of sight, and for the first time he thought he understand why people were so enamored of Autumn. It wasn’t just about loving things in the peak of life but loving them where they were close to death. It was about finding beauty in the darkest spaces of life. It was realizing things didn’t have to be perfect or beautiful to be loved. 

“I still don’t understand, though,” Keith said, removing his hands from the hoodie after he’d grudgingly been forced to pull out the embrace to make room for passersby. “If it was me, why didn’t you want to just tell me you wanted to fuck.”

To Keith’s surprise Shiro’s face, which had begun to return to normal, broke out in a red flush again.

“I know what everyone on campus thinks of frat boys—that all we care about is parties and sex. But it’s not true, not for me or most of my brothers. I just...I didn’t want you to think that’s all I wanted from you.”

Keith was used to seeing Shiro look confident as calm—unruffleable. But this Shiro standing before him now looked unsure and shy and fuck did that do things to Keith to think that he was someone who could ruffle Shiro. He hadn’t thought it was possible for Shiro to be more attractive but once again Keith was wrong.

“Are you telling me,” Keith said, his confidence returning as he insinuated his body directly into Shiro’s personal space, shoving his hands into Shiro’s hoodie pocket and yanking him closer “that you like me so much you were afraid to tell me how bad you wanted to fuck?”

Shiro let out of an noise of surprise, his blush deeping. “That sounds accurate, yeah.”

“Takashi, were you trying to woo me?” he joked.

Shiro ducked his head, breathing softly against the side of Keith’s face. “You’re worth wooing, Keith. You’re worth everything.”

Oh. _Oh_. 

Every single teasing word that had been on the tip of his tongue fell away as Shiro smashed his nose into Keith’s cheek, breathing deeply as if he were overcome with just being close to Keith. As if Keith were something important—something special.

“I didn’t want to do something stupid and scare you away,” Shiro whispered, kissing the side of Keith’s mouth.

Keith didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. Shiro. Perfect, decent, kind, fucking gorgeous Shiro had been afraid he might do something to make Keith leave him. 

Keith opened his mouth right as Shiro moved his lips to Keith’s, and the garbled groan he emitted was quickly swallowed down by Shiro as he kissed him slowly—reverently—Shiro’s hands slipping into his hair as he dragged his lips over Keith’s and Keith quite honestly felt certain that standing in the middle of the crowded quad while probably being gawked at was the most intimate moment of his entire life. Shiro was warm, and his kisses were spicy and sweet, hints of cinnamon and ginger clinging to the tip of Keith’s tongue when he slid it inside Shiro’s mouth.

“Shiro,” Keith mumbled, unable to believe he was actually pulling away from the best kiss of his life. 

Shiro cleared his throat. His eyes were bright, lips kiss-swollen, and the affection that surged through Keith was astounding. Keith didn’t think he was mean, not really. He never did things to hurt people on purpose. But his self-preservation streak was a mile wide, and he’d never cared about someone else’s feelings more than his own. Not when it had always been clear to him no one else would care about him. But now, the idea that he’d hurt Shiro made him burn with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. 

“Oh, no...it’s okay. Really. You don’t need to apologize.” Shiro seemed flustered.

“It’s not,” Keith insisted, trailing the tips of his fingers along the inside of Shiro’s wrist. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again. I’m not...I’m not good at relationships—at trusting people—but I can promise to try.”

“Is this a relationship then?” Shiro asked, voice unmistakably full of hope.

Keith dared a glance at Shiro’s face, and the insecurity he felt was nothing in the face of the open way Shiro was looking at him—wide-eyed and earnest.

“I’d like it to be,” Keith answered.

“Me too.” Shiro’s fingers reached out to Keith’s, pulling his hands inside the warmth of his pockets.

“There’s just one thing I think we need to talk about,” Keith said seriously, and all the color drained from Shiro’s face.

“Yeah?”

“When you were using that entire bottle of lube last week, were you thinking about fucking me or being fucked by me?”

“Oh,” Shiro breathed, blowing the hair from his forehead and looking unexpectedly shy again. “Both. But uh...possibly one more than the other.”

Keith couldn’t help but smirk. Sex was one of the few things he was secure about. He knew he was good at it and that he liked it; he’d never understood the point in pretending otherwise. “Pidge is in class until nine. Why don’t you come back to mine and show me.”

“Yes. Fuck, yes,” Shiro laughed, kissing Keith again.

Forty minutes later Keith was pretty sure it was an actual miracle they’d made it back to his apartment at all, since they’d stopped on the sidewalk every couple minutes to kiss and grope. Then Keith had been unable to keep his hands off Shiro’s cock, palming him through the thick sweatpants as they drove to his place. Once they’d parked, they’d almost made it to the apartment when Shiro had shoved him up against the wall and kissed Keith so thoroughly he thought he might be able to come from that alone.

“So, you gonna tell me what you were fantasizing about?” Keith asked, unable to believe that Shiro was actually spread out, buck naked in his bed.

Shiro licked his lips, spreading his legs wide and patting the bed between them. Keith crawled onto the bed immediately, eyes drawn to the strong muscles of Shiro’s thigh, the muscled planes of his impossibly fit stomach, and the dark tufts of hair leading to his equally proportionally large cock. Fuck but Shiro was built and Keith felt drunk on arousal as he let his hands ghost over his bare skin, delighting in the way Shiro responded to his touches.

“Shiro are you _shy_?” Keith asked, his fingertips drawing a path across Shiro’s trim waist.

Shiro shrugged. “My grandfather always said a gentleman didn’t talk about sex.”

Keith let his nails drag along the scruff of hair above Shiro’s cock. “I love that you want to be decent, Shiro. But trust me, I don’t want you to be a gentleman right now. I want you to be dirty.”

“Fuck, Keith.”

“Tell me what you want, Shiro. Please.” It was the please that did it. Keith could see the effect those words had on Shiro, and he filed away the knowledge that Shiro liked to hear him beg.

Suddenly Shiro’s strong hands were on his hips and then somehow in one swift movement Shiro had reversed their positions and Keith was flat on his back, Shiro’s broad thighs pinning him to the bed. Shiro looked immensely pleased with himself as he leaned over Keith, his tuft of white hair sticking straight up in the front.

“You’ve got me where you want me, Takashi. What are you gonna do with me?”

“Fuck, you drive me crazy, baby,” Shiro said, rolling his hips and dragging his perfectly plump ass down over Keith’s cock. Fuck Shiro’s ass was a thing of beauty, round and plump, and another day Keith had every intention of burying his face in it and making Shiro lose control. “God, want you to fuck me. Wanna do it like this, wanna ride you and watch your face as I fuck myself on your dick.”

Keith groaned. For someone who was had been so bashful not two minutes prior, Shiro had a surprisingly filthy mouth and fuck, did Keith like it. “Yeah. Yes. Fuck yes.”

Shiro bit his bottom lip, spreading his legs wider and rubbing his arse back and forth over Keith’s cock.

“Fuck. Let me get you ready,” Keith said, reaching over to yank open the drawer in his bedside table, easily finding the half-full tube of lubricant. Keith flipped the lid open, squeezing a generous amount on his fingers and rubbing them together.

“Uh, it won’t take much.”

Keith raised one eyebrow. “I realize my cock isn’t as large as yours, but we can’t all be generously endowed by the gods. You still need some prep.”

Shiro snorted out a laugh, his stomach visibly quivering as he dropped his hands on either side of Keith’s head. “It’s not that. I ah...might’ve fucked myself with my fingers thinking about you just before Matt dragged me out of the house to get coffee.”

Keith was once again rendered breathless as he reached his slick fingers down to circle at Shiro’s entrance. “Are you telling me you’re loose and ready for me because even after I was a complete asshole you still wanted me.”

“I’ll always want you,” Shiro said sincerely. 

“You can’t just say things like that, Shiro. Not unless you want me to go and do something stupid like fall in love with you.”

Shiro braced himself on his right hand, reaching down to wrap the fingers of his left hand around Keith’s wrist as he urged them up inside of his body.

“I’ll always want you,” Shiro repeated, as two of Keith’s fingers finally slid inside Shiro without an ounce of resistance.

“Fuck,” Keith groaned, eyes riveted on Shiro, who had closed his eyes and was rocking back against Keith’s fingers. It didn’t take long, just a few minutes of Keith’s fingers slipping in and out before Shiro was begging for more.

“Please, baby. Fuck me. God I want you so bad. You’ll fuck me so good, won’t you?”

“God, Shiro,” Keith gasped, scrambling at the drawer again until he found a condom. He put it between his teeth, ripping it open and trying to not act like an over-excited virgin as he rolled it down over his cock. 

Shiro watched him intently, waiting until the condom was in place before he lifted himself up easily, reaching down to hold onto Keith’s cock as he lined it up and sunk down on it all the way. Once Shiro was completely seated he wiggled his hips, head thrown back and chest heaving as he lifted himself up again and then unexpectedly thrust down hard and fast.

Keith scrambled to grab ahold of Shiro, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Shiro’s thighs as Shiro moved up and down, setting up a nearly dizzying pace. Not for the first time Keith marveled at Shiro’s level of fitness, at the way the muscles in his stomach and thighs flexed as he fucked himself on Keith’s cock as easily as if he were taking an afternoon stroll. Shiro’s weight was heavy and solid and made Keith’s head spin

Keith struggled to remember how to breathe, torn between trying to memorize every sound Shiro made and the sight of Shiro’s body moving above him warring with the desire to simply close his eyes and let himself surrender to the feeling of his cock moving in and out of the tight warmth of Shiro’s body. Keith might’ve been the one fucking Shiro, but it felt as if Shiro were fucking him. He felt caged in, surrounded by Shiro’s strength, his smell, his voice. Keith was no stranger to sex, not even close. But _this_ , this unexpected trust and intimacy Shiro was offering him so openly, so freely, that was something Keith didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You feel so good,” Shiro moaned. There was a light sheen of sweat breaking out across his chest, and his mouth hung open, tiny sounds of pleasure falling from his lips.

“You like how that feels? Like my dick so deep inside of your body? You close, Shiro?” Shiro’s hips stuttered, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps. Keith felt powerful in an entirely unfamiliar way, seeing the effect his words had. 

“Fuck, yes,” Shiro answered, falling forward to kiss Keith hard and indecent, his mouth open and his tongue moving inside of Keith’s mouth as if he were devouring him. Shiro leaned on his hands, bracketing the sides of Keith’s head as Shiro’s hips moved frantically, the room full of the sounds of skin slapping and the smell of sex assaulting Keith. 

“Next time...fuck, next time gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Shiro groaned. “Wanna make you feel as good as you’re making me feel.”

Keith pushed his head back into the pillows, arching his hips up. Fuck. Even being fucked, Shiro was talking about making Keith feel good. 

“Touch yourself,” Keith managed to get out, his head spinning at the sight of Shiro wrapping his long fingers around his cock. He was so much bigger than Keith, longer and thicker, and the sight of his cock slipping between his fist, the precome smearing on his elegant fingers, made Keith ache.

“Not gonna last.”

“Don’t want you to. Come on, Shiro. Fuck,” Keith said, covering Shiro’s hand with his own. Shiro made a broken sound, releasing his cock so that Keith’s hand was around before putting his hand atop Keith’s and showing him exactly what he liked, tight and slow strokes that had Shiro throwing his head back in a silent scream as he came in thick spurts all over Keith’s chest. Keith didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on by the act of someone coming on him, but fuck, apparently everything Shiro did was a turn on for Keith.

“Oh baby,” Shiro whispered, leaning down to wrap his arms around Keith’s back and then once again in a movement that Shiro made look as easy as lifting a feather he’d flipped them over so that Shiro was on his back, feet now planted on the bed and legs wide. “Fuck me like you mean it,” he said, still riding the waves of his orgasm.

Keith didn’t hesitate, moving his arms beneath Shiro’s knees unsure how flexible he might be because of his girth, surprised when Shiro allowed himself to be almost bent in half and then Keith was moving like a wild thing, as if he weren’t quite human. One, two three, frenzied thrusts and then he was dropping his forehead to Shiro’s clavicle and making sounds that were he in his right mind, he might be embarrassed about as he came hard and fast.

When his ears stopped ringing, he realized Shiro was nuzzling into his hair, warm hands moving up and down his back in a soothing manner.

Keith looked up, dropping his chin onto Shiro’s chest and unable to keep the smile off his face. “So was that everything you’d been imagining?”

Shiro pursed his lips as if in deep thought. “I don’t know, I think maybe we should try to it again to be sure.”

Keith laughed. “Fuck you, I’m tired.”

Shiro grinned openly. “Maybe we should shower. Then eat. Then see about that other thing I was fantasizing about.”

“Was that the thing where you fucked me so good I couldn’t remember my own name? Because I have to tell you I’m not sure you’re up to the challenge, Shirogane.”

Shiro barked out a laugh, kissing the tip of Keith’s nose. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

“What if it takes a long, long, long, long time,” Keith said, wondering why he couldn’t even muster the energy to be cranky about how sticky he was.

“I’m in for the long haul, Kogane. As many times as it takes.”

Keith felt the smile spread across his face. There were a lot of things Keith hated. Professors who graded on curve. Liquor store clerks who thought he didn’t want his three pennies worth of change back. Everything about Autumn, especially the cold and the throngs of hipsters treating the unfavorable weather as an aesthetic. He didn't hate Shiro though. 

Except, maybe just a little bit since he was definitely the one to blame for the unexplainable sudden craving Keith had for a pumpkin spice latte. 

Keith reached out to ruffle the floof of hair that had fallen down into Shiro’s eyes, brushing it back off his forehead before bending down to steal one more kiss. Shiro smiled at him bright and open and Keith could feel the walls around his heart threatening to crumble already. If Keith ended up become a sappy hipster he was definitely going to blame Shiro.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://teamtakashi.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813).


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